


The Gray Silk Robe

by redheadgrrl1960



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgrrl1960/pseuds/redheadgrrl1960
Summary: Oh, that gray silk robe that Miranda wore in the hotel room in Paris... Now it is back to haunt Andy, and she finds herself doing something she'd never dare. It has something to do with the robe--and everything to do with Miranda Priestly.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 31
Kudos: 363





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ash_Mountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Mountain/gifts).



“Andrea.”

What was it about that voice, soft, sonorous and, yes, lethal? Andy gets up and rounds her desk in the outer office, pens and pad in hand, as always ready to perform her duties as first assistant to Miranda Priestly, the infamous editor-in-chief of Runway Magazine. After fourteen months in these offices, she has yet to come to terms with how Miranda pronounces her name. She says it differently than anybody else and from day one, it has done something to her. At first it was shear terror, hearing the barely audible voice that still managed to carry from the inner office, to Andy’s desk. Back then, she was the entirely clueless second assistant, dressing more to stay warm than to impress anyone, or, god forbid, look stylish.

Andy nears Miranda’s glass desk and raises her chin when she meets her gaze. Glancing at Andy over her reading glasses, Miranda’s eyes narrow. Oh. Now what?

“Sit. I need you to look these over.” Miranda tosses a small parcel across the desk, nearly knocking her, by now, tepid latte over. Andy takes the mug and places in the bin under the desk. Reaching for the package, she can tell it is from some fancy company as the lettering on the lid is beveled in rose gold print. She hesitates just long enough to make Miranda frown. “Go on.” The tone is annoyed, but a quick glance reassures Andy that there is no real venom behind it.

Andy opens the package and looks down at a stack of cards. Invitations to a cocktail party at Miranda’s townhouse. Thinking she’s meant to make sure they go out to the right people, Andy expects Miranda to mention a guestlist, but just as she has mustered the nerve to ask about it, she spots something that’s not right.

“They have the phone number for RSVP wrong. I’m assuming that you want them to call me.” Andy returns her attention to her boss who looks, well, if not pleased, then at least less impatient.

“Exactly. New girl needs to do better. That, or you will start interviewing again.” It is obvious that Miranda consider Andy responsible for the mistake. Granted, Eliza is new, and so nervous around Miranda that she forgets her name and how to breathe, but this is such a rookie mistake, Andy wants to thud her forehead against the glass surface before her.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Of course, you will,” Miranda says softly.

Uncertain at the tone, since she doesn’t quite recognize it as the same as when Miranda is about to eviscerate someone, Andy grips the box harder. “Anything else I can do for you, Miranda?” she asks before she realizes she’s opened her mouth. Twice now. Twice since she stepped into Miranda’s office, has she broken the rule of never asking stupid questions. Miranda really doesn’t mind questions, no matter what the rumor mill claims, as long as they’re not redundant.

“Yes,” Miranda now answers, returning her gaze to her laptop. “I need you at the townhouse tonight. The twins have a project.”

Oh, god, now. Andy nearly says the exasperated words out loud. Please, no more painting planets, building model volcanos, or baking cookies. Andy loves the girls and after a year of getting to know them, she has learned to tell them apart, but she isn’t sure she can take it tonight. “Of course,” she says. “What time?”

“Six. And since you’re being accommodating, I’ll have the office send me the Book in digital format, even if I loathe more hours at the computer than absolutely necessary.”

Andy wonders if Miranda is aware that she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Thank you.”

Miranda yanks the hand from her face. “That’s all.”

Returning to the outer part of the office, Andy stops by Eliza’s desk. “Hey. You got the phone number wrong. Send me the information to the printer and your original file for these invites. I’ll fix it this time, but I have to warn you, you can’t screw up on easy tasks like this.”

Eliza goes from white to red in two seconds flat. “Oh, god. Am I getting fired?” Tugging at her perfectly curled blond hair, Eliza presses a hand to her chest.

“Not this time. Miranda is giving you another chance. One.” Andy speaks kindly as the message she’s relaying scares the girl enough. Time will tell if Eliza rises to the occasion or not. Andy remembers her own mistakes, several, in fact, and realizes that Miranda offered her at least five-six chances the first months at Runway. Huh.

Sitting down at her desk, Andy’s pleased to see the information from Eliza’s computer who up on her screen within a minute. She winks at the teary-eyed second assistant as she dials the printer. “Hello? My name is Andy Sachs and I’m calling for Miranda Priestly…”

Another minute later, Andy can relax some as the manager at the printer is going to message the new, corrected invites before the workday is over.

XXX

The townhouse, located on a quiet street on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, is bustling with the kind of activity that comes from having two preteen twins. The redheaded girls run down the stairs as Andy steps through the front door. She gives Miranda’s housekeeper, Carmen, her coat before turning to the girls.

“Hi there. What are we doing this evening?” Andy can’t help but grin when she looks at the eager, freckled faces.

“Konmari!” Cassidy, to the left, says and takes Andy’s hand.

“Kon-what?” Andy blinks, not understanding a thing.

“The Konmari method. Sorting through your things and only keeping what sparks joy. Haven’t you seen the show or read the book?” Caroline tilts her head and looks at Andy with something like pity in her eyes.

“I have heard of it,” Andy manages to say when her brain catches up. “But how can I help with that?” She frowns.

Mom says you’re supposed to clear her closet while Caro and me do our own.” Cassidy points to the stairs.

“Caro and I.” Miranda’s voice makes Andy jump, as she joins them from the room between the hallway and the kitchen. “And don’t frighten Andrea like that.” Turning to Andy, she shakes her head. “You’re not sorting through my entire closet, naturally, just the cabinets next to my walk-in closet. I think you are knowledgeable to distinguish between my older garments and the brand-new ones by now.”

Andy can barely breathe, let alone talk. Miranda’s expecting her to rummage through her clothes. What the hell? When she regains control of her vocal cords, she says, “I’ll do my best, Miranda. Do you wish to look them over, or—”

“No.” Miranda flicks her fingers toward Andy. “Go on. Once you’re done, you are welcome to join us for dinner.”

It isn’t the first time she’s been eaten with Miranda and the girls, but normally that happens in restaurants while on the road, or after some function at Daltons, the girls’ school. Here at the house, she remembers having had a sandwich once, but dinner? “Thank you,” she says, glad her voice sounds calm, despite her trembling heart.

Walking upstairs, Andy slowly enters Miranda’s bedroom. She’s been in here, very briefly, to fetch Miranda’s cellphone, but it was months ago. A different bedspread, other decorative objects, and the drapes around the four-poster bed are light and airy, rather than the heavy brocade Andy remembered. The room was more feminine, more Miranda, somehow.

Looking around, Andy sees two cabinets reaching from floor to ceiling on either side of a door which she surmises leads to said walk-in closet. She hesitantly opens the first cabinet and is immediately amazed at how organized it is, inadvertently snorting when she thinks of her own measly closet space at her studio apartment. Here some full-length clothes are hanging to the left, shorter garments to the right and drawers underneath contain lace slips, lingerie, belts, and scarves. Miranda’s signature scent filled her nostrils as she took in the abundance, and as always, it made Andy shiver.

After thinking quickly about which will be the most efficient approach, Andy pulls all the long garments out and lay them carefully on the bed. Robes and nightgowns in different pastels, most of them blues or grays, pooled luxuriously against the bedspread. Andy first put back everything that still had a tag. Three robes remained, and she folded a light blue satin one and placed it at the foot of the bed. A pinkish brown, also satin, went the same way. Reaching for the last, Andy froze. A gray, silk robe. _The_ gray silk robe. Suddenly, Andy was transported back in time, to her first Paris fashion week experience.

She can see the image of Miranda, sitting in her luxury suite at the hotel, clutching a legal document, her hair limp and unkempt, teary-eyed, and wearing this very robe. The first time Andy saw Miranda as anything else than a dragon lady, snow queen, or a Prada-wearing devil, she was wearing this robe. Without makeup, Miranda had jerked as Andy entered the room, looking so forlorn it had pierced Andy’s heart. Perhaps it was the hole after that piercing that allowed love to enter. Andy was so angry at Miranda for so many things after that week in Paris, but she couldn’t deny that Miranda in this robe she now holds with trembling fingers, was the start.

Andy simply cannot make herself put the gray robe in the pile that doesn’t “spark joy”. Yes, it would give someone else a lot of joy, it is an amazing fabric and the designer is famous, but this is _the_ robe. It already sparks something in Andy, which means, if you stretch the concept a little, she should save it. Right? Without allowing the inner voice that tries to reason with her to become audible enough, Andy tiptoes to the door and listens. She can hear the girls laughing and talking from their rooms upstairs and there is no one else in sight. Looking down at the robe in her hands, she knows she’ll never get another chance.

Pushing the door closed behind her, she takes off her blouse. If it is the last thing she does, she is going to feel this robe against her naked skin. Whether it has been washed or not, at one point, this robe had touched Miranda’s equally naked skin, and this is Andy’s only chance to come this close. She realizes it is pathetic, and pretty freaky, and there should be “stalker” stamped on her forehead, no doubt, but she slips into the robe and ties the belt around her waist. The image in the full-length mirror makes her gasp. The silk warms her skin and she feels dizzy. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulls out her cell phone and take a picture of her reflection. Turning sideways, she snaps another one.

When she hears footsteps in the stairs outside, she tugs at the belt and nearly drops her phone in the process. Tossing it on the bed, she tugs off the robe and puts her blouse back on. She hangs the gray robe back into the closet and has just pulled out more hangers with blouses and chemises when Miranda steps inside.

“Ah. Yes.” Miranda stops just inside door. “Dinner in an hour, if that’s agreeable with you?”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be done by then, I’m sure, as it’s only the smaller closets.” Andy know she sounds breathless.

“I thought so.” Taking a few lingering steps into the room, Miranda eyes the pile of clothes still on hangers. “Actually, why don’t I help you?”

“Help me?” Perhaps Andy’s voice sounds even weirder than she things because Miranda’s head snaps up.

“It will please the girls that I took part.” Her words are defensive and perhaps she realizes as Miranda’s cheeks color faintly.

“They would. Absolutely.” Andy nods, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“Why don’t you do the blouses and I’ll take care of the chemises?” The fact that Miranda phrases her order as a question, making it sound like a suggestion, adds to Andy’s feeling of being dizzy.

“Okay.” Andy goes though the blouses, recognizing some of them, and only twice does she feel she should ask Miranda’s opinion. Miranda has an even easier task. She discards all the chemises but two.

“Belts and scarves?” Andy asks as she places the garments they’d chosen to donate into paper bags.

“Yes. Why not.” Miranda sits down on the edge of her bed as Andy pulls out the entire drawer holding the items in question. It gets jammed halfway out and she struggles for a few moments before she finds the release levers that will allow her to pull it out completely. Taking a deep breath before turning around, Andy speaks hastily.

“I didn’t break anything even if it was stubborn.” She places the drawer between her and Miranda. Gazing up, she finds Miranda staring at her, her eyes huge and with distinct red spots on her cheeks. “Miranda?” Now what?

“Fine. Now, let’s see. Dear god, I have far too many Hermes scarves. Any duplicates can go.”

“Got it.” Andy begins pairing up the scarves, finding at least two, sometimes three, of each. In the meantime, Miranda makes short order of the belts, only keeping four. For some reason, she seems to particularly find the gold and silver tinted ones offensive, judging from the way she tosses them aside. Andy rolls them up neatly and places them in a paper bag of their own. “Anything else?”

“Footwear. At the very bottom.” Miranda points to the cabinet to the left of the walk-in closet door.

Andy returns the drawer with scarves and belts and then kneels next to the shoe shelves. Pulling out the trays holding slippers and sandals, Andy stands and brings them over to Miranda.

“I haven’t worn half of these. What size are you, Andrea?”

“Shoes?” Andy blinks and then catches on after seeing Miranda roll her eyes. “Um. 9.”

“Then please help yourself if you find any here you like.” Pressing her lips together, Miranda averts her gaze, which makes Andy’s heart ache. What was going on?

“Thank you,” Andy replies. “That’s very sweet…nice, of you.”

Miranda flicks her fingers at Andy. “Hardly. Who needs twenty pairs of slippers after all?”

Andy has to agree but knows better than to voice that opinion out loud. She quickly scans the content of the tray and spots a pair of royal blue, soft looking slippers. “Are you keeping these?” She points at them.

Miranda’s gaze softens. “Good choice. I’m not keeping these, as I have a charcoal pair just like them. They are very comfortable. I normally wear them with my gray silk robe.” Her tone is casual, but Andy nearly slips off the bed.

“I see,” she says, all too aware of how husky she sounds. Gripping the slippers tight, Andy had to stop herself from pressing them in a gesture that would have seemed odd and protective.

It only takes them another fifteen minutes to finish the task and fill the last of the bags. Just as Miranda gets up, the twins enter, as always pressing through the doorway as one person.

“Mom, you helped! Wow!” Caroline wraps her arms around Miranda’s waist.

“Andrea did most of it.” Miranda smiles indulgently at her daughter. “And before you say anything, I did bestow a pair of slippers to Andrea. I know the Konmari method stipulates that you don’t pass things on.”

“Aw, one pair or slippers, that’s nothing. Do they spark joy, Andy?” Cassidy comes up to Andy and look at the bags.

“They do.” Andy is glad to sound her usual self again. “I love the color blue.”

“Name the shade, Andrayyya,” the twins say in unison and fall into a fit of giggle, obviously knowing full well that’s what their mother would say.

“Royal blue, you rascals,” Andy says, unable to hold back a chuckle.

“Please.” Miranda shakes her head, but her eyes sparkle. “Help us bring the bags down to the foyer closet, please, girls.”

“Sure thing, Mom. Our stuff is still down there.” The twins grab most of the bag and bounces out of the room followed by Miranda.

Andy takes the last few bags and gets up from the bed, when she spots her cell phone. She has forgotten about it until now and moves the bags over to her left hand so she can flip the cell over in her right. Tapping the screen with her thumb, she watches it come to life. Relieved that the photos she’s taken of herself in the gray robe aren’t the first things she sees; she automatically taps the icon for text messages. So far there is nothing important that she must deal with right away. She’s about to close the app when she spots something. The app indicates she’s sent a message, but Andy is pretty sure she’s up to speed with the outgoing texts for the day. Curious at what she may have sent without confirming it reached the recipient, she taps the link.

And stares. It’s not any of the photos she took of herself in the robe, but a of her slightly bent sideways, the robe hanging half off her left shoulder, showing off her left, La Perla lace bra clad breast and most of her stomach. Her facial expression is that of shock, but if you don’t know that, it can also be interpreted as something entirely different. Her lips area parted and formed into an ‘o’, her eyes are half closed, and her hair look tousled around her pale face.

If this is not bad enough, the indicator of her having sent it to someone makes Andy nauseous. She knows for a fact that she hasn’t. Sending an MMS takes several taps on the screen. How the hell did this happen and to whom…? Clicking her sent folder with mounting dread filling her chest, Andy slumps down on the side of the bed.

Somehow, the photo of her, half naked in the gray robe, has been sent to Miranda’s cell.

__________________________________________________________________

Concluded in part 2


	2. Chapter 2

Miranda cuts another precise piece from the steak on her plate and places it in her mouth. She commends herself for having steady hands and how she is able to maintain her usual cool demeanor, when all she can think of is the photo on Andrea’s cell phone. She pushes the thought from her mind with immense willpower, but knows it will be back with a vengeance at any given moment.

“It’s going to be fun to give all the clothes and things to goodwill,” Caroline says and grins at her sister before turning to her mother. “Samantha in my class said she would sell everything on eBay so she could by more things. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

Her heart warming at Caroline’s question, Miranda nods. “I’d say so. There are many boys and girls who would never be able to afford any of the items you’ve sorted through, be it toys or clothes. If they end up on an eBay auction, yes, your friend Samantha can make a lot of money, but that also means that only people who has a certain income can bid on them.”

“Unless Samantha can be persuaded to give that money to some other charity. Make a wish foundation, or something like that.” Andrea speaks softly and Miranda meets her gaze for the first time since they sat down to eat. Andrea’s cheeks hold a rosy glow and she bites into her full lower lip after she finishes talking.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Cassidy says, waving her fork at her sister. “We should suggest that.”

“Oh.” Andrea drops her knife and it clatters down onto the plate. “I was just thinking out loud. I have no idea about Samantha’s motivation for going the eBay route.” She looks helplessly at Miranda.

“Yes, girls.” Miranda makes sure the girls listens intently before she continues. “If you intend to ask Samantha about it, you mustn’t force your opinion on her. We shouldn’t assume we know everything.”

Andrea’s eyes grow even wider and Miranda can guess how her last sentence might sound completely out of character. At Runway, Miranda always has the last word and she is expected to know everything. Surely Andrea realizes that this doesn’t translate to her private life? God knows what she and her girls have had to live with since her separation from Stephen, her now ex-husband. The press, especially the despicable people behind some of the columns on Page 6, has been merciless. Twice, Miranda’s lawyers have had to threaten the newspaper with lawsuits as they have photographed her children.

“All right, mom. We’ll do it all stealthy like.” Caroline spears a mushroom and chews it thoughtfully. “Samantha is a cool girl and we don’t want her to get upset. When she gets upset, it usually lasts for _days._ ”

“I see.” Miranda really doesn’t, because her girls, as opinionated and spoiled as they are, and she is to blame for a lot of that, do not hold grudges for very long. Certainly not days. Cassidy is the mercurial one—her first husband has more than once compared mother and daughter when it comes to the youngest twin. Caroline is softer, milder, and she is the one who best can reason with Cassidy, if she gets an idea that’s too wild.

Miranda returns her focus on Andrea who is busy finishing off her plate. Opting for chicken, much like the girls, rather than steak, she still hasn’t eaten much. Knowing full well what a healthy appetite Andrea enjoys, normally, Miranda wonders if it is her own presence that affects it now. Her thoughts go full circle and returns to forty-five minutes ago when she was sitting on her bed and Andrea was pulling at the drawer holding the belts and scarves.

Looking at the piles Andrea had already put together and not seeing anything she would rather keep, Miranda’s eyes had fallen on Andrea’s cell phone that was half hidden by the two robes she had discarded. Only intending to move it out of the way, Miranda had taken it and only then realized Andrea was still logged in. It was embarrassing to admit that she had been curious enough to cast a glance on the screen, but she did. And lost her breath.

A slightly out of focus photo of Andrea, dressed in only a bra and dark slacks, barely covered by a gray robe—Miranda’s brain had stalled for a few seconds. She could vaguely hear how Andrea yanked at the stubborn drawer over by the cabinet. Andrea was wearing a gray robe and with nothing underneath but her bra. And the background was that of Miranda’s bedroom windows. So, it had to be Miranda’s gray silk robe. She looked down at the piles of discarded clothes. No gray silk robe. Andrea must have hung it back into the cabinet. After another breathless look at the photo that showed one of Andrea’s naked shoulders, her stomach, and her full breasts in the lace bra. Before she had time to think about it, she had sent the photo to her own phone.

“Mom?” Cassidy’s voice sounds puzzled.

“Yes, dear?” Miranda puts her utensils down. She has managed half her steak, but there is no chance she can eat any more.

“We have to proofread our English essays before bedtime. Can we—” Cassidy interrupts herself and gives a beatific smile. “ _May_ we take some ice cream up to our rooms if we promise to bring the bowls back before we go to bed?”

Miranda dreads being alone with Andrea, which of course is ridiculous, but nonetheless a fact. “You may.” She watches her girls carry their plates, utensils and glass wear out of the dining room. They started doing things like that after Stephen moved out, for some reason, and Miranda has to admit it is a blessing to see that she hasn’t destroyed them.

“They’re amazing girls,” Andrea says softly, interrupting Miranda’s thoughts.

“They are.” Miranda finds it quite telling how she would have bristled, even at such praise, if anyone had the audacity to claim they knew anything about her girls, good or bad, only a year ago. This last year has been hell, but it’s always been liberating and now she can’t tear her gaze away from Andrea. “I’m done,” Miranda says and gets up. She takes her plate and goes into the kitchen. Placing the piece of stake in Priscilla’s, her St. Bernard dog, bowl for later, she puts the plate into the dishwasher. Turning around to fetch Andrea’s plate, she stands face to face with her assistant.

“I can do it.” Andrea fills up the dishwasher with her own plate as well as a few things sitting on the counter and the kitchen island. “There.” She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Time for me to walk to the subway—”

“Subway?” Miranda blinks. “You—you have to take a cab, at least.”

“Too expensive.” Andy tugs at her sleeves and clears her throat.

“I’ll pay.” The words are out before Miranda can stop them.

“Very generous and I appreciate it, but I use the subway all the time. And it’s not even that late, compared to when I deliver the book.” She looks up through her bangs and smiles.

“Still…won’t you humor me?” Miranda isn’t sure why she persists.

Andrea tilts her head and her eyes are thoughtful as they lock onto Miranda’s. Miranda finds herself wondering if this girl can perhaps read minds, which is naturally, a ridiculous thought to begin with. That said, she shivers and makes her spine go tense, to not let it show. All these tricks she’s learned over the years to keep her snow queen reputation intact, she relies on them now not to let any of her soaring emotions show.

“All right.” Andrea takes a step closer. “I’ll take a cab. This time.”

This is unexpected and Andrea’s words make Miranda’s focus falter. She gasps as she suddenly feels dizzy. Only then does she realize she’s been holding her breath for too long.

“Good. I’ll call the company I use.” Miranda turns to reach for her cell phone that sits on the kitchen island, when Andrea gently takes her upper arm and stops her from moving. Miranda snaps her head around, her jaw dropping at the touch. “Andrea?” Why was she still breathless?

“I can call the cab.” Andrea’s hand is still on Miranda’s arm, trembling. “I just have a question first.”

“Oh?” Miranda inhales Andrea’s scent, suddenly overwhelmed by the familiar blend of vanilla and bergamot. It’s warm, rather pedestrian, but combined with what must be uniquely Andrea’s own scent, it scorches Miranda’s sense.

“Why did you send the photo I took to your phone?” Andrea whispers. Her eyes are huge and Miranda wonders if she’s hallucinating as Andrea’s lips seems fuller than usual. Then, the impact of the question hits and Miranda wants to take a step back, preferably leave the kitchen and have Andrea disappear into the dark evening—and out of her system. Realizing the preposterousness of such thoughts, Miranda remains where she is, still held in place by Andrea’s light grip.

“I—I don’t know.” Miranda wets her lips.

“Liar,” Andrea says softly. “Why didn’t you call me out on it right away? Or even fire me?”

“Fire you? Now, why would I do that?” Miranda places a steadying hand on the kitchen counter. “For a photo?”

“For trying on your robe.” The rosy color on Andrea’s cheek deepens. “And, perhaps, for not placing it in one of the bags.”

Not following, Miranda frowns. “What do you mean?”

Andrea lets her hand fall from Miranda’s arm, staring at it as if she only now realized that she’d touched her boss. “I should perhaps get ahold of that cab company—”

“No. You started this.” Miranda purses her lips, getting very little satisfaction when that makes Andrea wince. “I’ll go make sure the girls are getting ready for bed. Go wait in my study.” She turns to walk, but then glances over her shoulder. “Please.”

Andrea merely nods and walks out of the kitchen. Miranda spends some time with the girls, double checking on their homework and that they’re ready for bed. “On hour,” she says. You can watch a show or play a videogame, but then I want you to shower and get into bed. All right?”

“Sure thing, mom.” Cassidy salutes Miranda and then kisses her cheek. Caroline takes more time, slowly standing up and walking up to her mother.

“Is Andy still here?” She squints, something she normally does if she’s trying to figure something out, or judge someone’s character. Miranda gets the feeling this time it might be both.

“She is. We’re going to sit down in the study for a little while, before she goes home.”

“I wish she wasn’t going,” Caroline says quietly. “I really like Andy, mom.”

Already feeling unsettled, Miranda can’t wrap her brain around Caroline’s words. “Andrea is a lovely girl, Bobbsey.”

“That’s just it. She’s great, but soon she’ll be gone, and we’ll never see her again. You have to do something about it, mom.” Cassidy tugs at Miranda’s arm. “Caro is right. She fits in with us.”

‘Us’ as in the girls, or ‘us’ as in their little family? Miranda isn’t going to ask for clarification. “I hear you, girls. I do.” Does she? Perhaps when she has cleared the air with Andrea, she can figure out what her children means by their impossible words.

“Go to Andy, mom,” Caroline says and kisses Miranda’s cheek. “We’ll see ourselves to bed, okay?”

Feeling her cheeks warm, Miranda kisses her girls goodnight and walks down one flight of stairs to the study. Andrea sits slightly sideways on the couch, one arm stretched out along the backrest. Miranda glances at the closest armchair, then decides that she is perhaps obtuse, but never a coward. She sits down about twenty inches from Andrea and pulls up one leg under her after kicking off her pumps.

“Yes?” Andrea prompts and leans her head into her hand.

“I saw the photo on your phone and recognized my gray silk robe right away.” Miranda plucks at the cuffs of her blouse. “No, I’m lying. I did notice the robe, but only after seeing the photo of you in that, um, state of undress.” Miranda raises her chin. “You are very beautiful.” Now that sounds like an excuse, or like the defense of a fool.

“I’m no model.” Andy looks down at her right hand where it reaches out and takes Miranda’s right. “I’m the smart, fat girl, remember?”

“Your weight, no matter what it is, has no bearing on your beauty. You’re stunning and that has very much to do with your soul and persona. It was wrong of me to ever speak to you like that.” Miranda grips Andrea’s hand tight. “I apologize for invading your privacy.”

“I could say the same. I was meant to sort through your clothes, not try them on like some fucking stalker…oh. Sorry.” Andrea closes her eyes hard for a moment.

Miranda smiles. “Calm down. I’m not going to fire you for cursing.”

“No? Good.” Andrea slides closer. “So, you found a picture on my phone and thought I looked beautiful, but why did you send it to my phone? You must know that it’d end up in my sent folder.”

“I knew nothing of the sort.” Miranda cringes at how little she cares about how technology and software work, as long as they do. Yes, of course she realizes that there are traces when you send an email or a text, but not that it would be so readily visible. A small voice in her head insists that she would have sent that enticing photo to herself, regardless if she thought of the repercussions or not.

“That’s the way it is, anyway.” Andrea raises their joined hands and, after a brief hesitation, kisses Miranda’s knuckles. “I apologize for crossing the line regarding the robe.”

“You can have it, you know. It was meant to go.” Miranda stares at Andrea’s full lips and then at her hand. How odd. She can’t see any scorch mark where Andrea pressed her lips.

“That wouldn’t be the same.” Andrea’s cheeks color. “I only tried it on to feel closer to you.” Her voice is lowered into a mere whisper. “Your scent.”

Miranda’ heart is racing so fast now, she’s fully prepared for it to break free from the ribcage. How could Andrea suddenly be so bold, so ready to put everything on the line. “And did it do that for you? Did you feel closer?” Miranda studies Andrea through her eyelashes, eager, and afraid, at the implication.

“Oh, yes. I sure did.” Tipping her head back, Andrea chuckles, a thoroughly husky, sexy sound. “When I heard you on the stairs, I panicked. You can imagine trying to get the robe off, the shirt back on, at the same time. I had no idea my phone took another photo.”

“Another photo?” Miranda sits up straighter.

Andrea winces. “Ah. Yes. There are two more.”

“Perhaps you’ll feel comfortable enough to share them at one point.” Miranda relaxes again, slowly. She finds it brings her closer to Andrea, who in turn tugs gently at Miranda’s hand.

“I will.” Andrea lowers her gaze and Miranda can feel it against her lips, as if Andrea is already touching them. “If you want to see them, they’re yours.”

Whimpering, and not sure how she can possibly resist Andrea on any level after tonight, Miranda raises her free hand, curls her index finger and places it under Andrea’s chin, tipping it up at the perfect angle. Andrea’s full lips are damp, half open, and her breath comes out as something between a whimper and a moan.

“May I kiss you?” Miranda whispers.

“Wha—oh, god…” Andrea nods. “Yes.” Surprisingly her eyes well up with tears, and Miranda is momentarily panic-stricken. Before she can ask what is wrong or pull back to save Andrea from having to be the one rejecting her, Andrea moves even closer. Her lips are a mere breath away, but she waits now. “Yes,” she says, her voice louder, but still trembling.

Yes, what? Miranda slides her hand up from Andrea’s chin and frames the right side of her face. Andrea’s cheek is warm, and Miranda’s fingers caress it gently. Tucking Andrea’s long hair behind her ear, she kisses those full lips, so gently, it is barely a touch. If it hadn’t been for Andrea’s muted whimper, the kiss could have passed them by.

Andrea lets go of Miranda’s hand and runs it up her arm, to her shoulders. There it rests for a moment, burning Miranda through the thin fabric of her blouse, before it moves down and circles her waist. “Closer?” Andrea murmurs, a breath away from Miranda’s lips.

“Much.” Miranda moves her hand from the back of Andrea’s neck and wraps her arm around her, pulling her tight. Now her lips want more, _she_ wants more. Another kiss, their second, starts as the first, like a butterfly wing against a flower petal, but almost immediately turn to more.

Andrea parts her lips against Miranda’s mouth, but doesn’t deepen the kiss. She hums against Miranda and this sends the sweetest of aches through her body and she tightens her grip. “Mm…so sweet,” Andrea murmurs. “So hot.”

Not sure how to interpret that, Miranda merely listens to Andrea’s tone of voice, rather than the words, which are swallowed up by both of them as the kiss goes on and on. Eventually, Miranda can’t wait any long. She tastes Andrea against her tongue and that is all it takes. Still so careful, so tender, the kiss deepens and Miranda groans as Andrea’s hands hold her so close, it feels as if Andrea doesn’t ever want to let her go.

_‘She’ll go and we’ll never see her again.’ … ‘Andy fits with us, mom.’_

The twin’s words from only moments ago, makes Miranda tremble and she pulls back, breaking the kiss. The girls are right. Andrea will work at Runway for a limited time period and then move on to bigger and better things. What if she’ll never see Andrea again? The girl could decide to move on to any other major cities in the US…and why shouldn’t she? She has terrific credentials and of course Miranda will write her a—

“Miranda? Where did you go just now?” Andrea asks, her warm breath against Miranda’s cheek.

“What? Oh. No—nowhere.” It’s a lie and Miranda can tell Andrea knows that. Still she doesn’t pressure Miranda for any further explanation. That is a rare thing. Any of her former husband would have huffed and puffed over Miranda being not-so-very forthcoming and stormed off after making a scene. Andrea…she merely stays with her, holds her close still, and waits.

“I worry about you…quitting.” Miranda knows she’s horrible at putting words to feelings.

“Quitting what? Runway?” Andrea tilts her head and a cascade of dark brown hair lands on Miranda’s arm. “Or you?”

Flinching, Miranda leans her forehead against Andrea’s shoulder. “Both.”

“Runway…well, that’s another six months, at least. Maybe a year, right?” Andrea is shaking. “You…” She swallows audibly. “I don’t see how I ever could. I’m prepared to do it, if…if my feelings aren’t wanted, and trust me, for least than a few hours go, I was dead certain they weren’t. Now, after those kisses, I’m…at a loss.”

Miranda lifts her head up and tips it back enough to study Andrea’s expression. “No need to be at a loss. My reaction to our kisses should tell you enough…for now.”

“What does that mean—for now?”

Miranda pulls Andrea even closer. “It means that we have a lot to figure out, but surely you know me well enough to realize that I would never…I mean, if I didn’t…you know?” Feeling utterly ridiculous for losing her words like this, Miranda runs her thumb across Andrea’s damp lower lip.

Trembling, Andrea presses a gentle kiss against Miranda’s thumb and when Miranda moves it out of the way, she shifts to Miranda’s mouth. One kiss shifts seamlessly into the next. They are soft and demanding at the same time. Perhaps it is because Miranda fears she might shatter if Andrea lets go, or a fear of what she might say to Miranda, that makes Miranda so insatiable. 

Eventually Andrea pulls back some, but only creating enough space between them to make room for words. “I know you well enough to realize you would never kiss me if you didn’t mean it or want it.”

Relieved beyond words, Miranda merely nods before she pulls Andrea with her to lean against the backrest. There, she simply holds Andrea and runs her fingers through the silky tresses of her hair. “Am I to understand that you feel the same way?”

“You are.” Nuzzling the side of Miranda’s neck, Andrea sighed. “I should be going home, but I’m so happy right where I am just now.”

This makes Miranda smile. “Then stay a while longer. Please.”

“All right.” Andrea presses her lips against Miranda’s neck as she pulls out her cell phone from her back pocket. “Want to see them now?” She dips her head and kisses Miranda long enough for her to lose track of her thoughts.

“See what?” Miranda blinks and tries to grasp what Andrea’s talking about. The cell phone in Andrea’s hand makes her chuckle. “Oh.”

“Remember, I’m no model.” Andrea pulls up the first photo.

Miranda swallows. “No, you are something far more important. You’re Andrea.”

Andrea’s expression softens and she gives Miranda the phone. After looking at the gorgeous girl in the last two photos, Miranda hugs her close. “So stunning. That robe is yours, no matter where you want to wear it. Perhaps here, at the house?”

Andrea gapes for a few, slow seconds. “Here.”

“Mm.” Miranda caresses Andrea’s cheek with the back of her curled fingers.

The smile forming on Andrea’s lips cannot be described as anything but blinding. “All right. From now on, the gray silk robe, is mine.”

Epilogue

Andy sits in the taxi and even if traffic is slow tonight, she’s already halfway home. She has refused to go over tonight’s magical moments with Miranda so far, not wanting to reminisce in the back of a New York City cab. When she gets home, she’ll pull up all her memories of touches, kisses, and amazing and unfathomable words, with Miranda.

Her phone pings and she can tell from the series of beeps that it’s a text from Miranda. Despite her newfound happiness, part of Andy easily turns to fear that she might screw up, or that Miranda will profoundly regret everything that was said and done. She taps her screen and then on the message.

_Miranda Priestly:_

_Call me when you’re home. Don’t forget._

_Andrea Sachs:_

_I will. I promise._

_Miranda Priestly:_

_The cab was a mistake, I should have offered you the guest room._

Andrea clutches her phone tight and takes a deep breath.

_Andrea Sachs:_

_Next time._

_________________________________________________-

The End


End file.
